Total War
by Palex
Summary: Caesar's Legion drove the NCR from Nevada in the bloody battle at the Hoover Dam, a particular blonde haired woman pulling the strings. The Courier has been accepted into the Legion and gifted the reformation of The Strip. Will she make the The Strip prosper for Caesar's Legion, or will a sly fox distract the Courier from her work?
1. Fourth Wall

Who the hell allowed this Courier to believe she was important?

Vulpes stared with a clenched jaw as the profligate strode into the tent, wearing Legion armor no less. Scarlet fabric hugged the graceful intake of her narrow waist, covered by the silver breastplate that fit her figure down to the dip at the hollow of her throat. Ordered by Caesar himself, no doubt.

Specially made.

Her bow was graceful, he noted. She took a seat beside Caesar without prompting. That filthy, degenerate whore sidling up to the almighty Caesar like she had a right.

"Something on your mind, Inculta?"

Gray eyes narrowed at the fair haired Courier. Ex-Courier, he thought bitterly. An amused smirk pulled at the edges of her pink lips. The bitch knew her mere presence was grating on his nerves.

"None that involve you, Courier."

Caesar cleared his throat before the tension escalated. The blonde turned her immaculate jade eyes to the expanse of maps littering the table. Photos of casinos and their factions rested on their respective locations atop the map. Those calculating eyes were greedily consuming the information offered to her on the table.

The New Vegas Strip had been a delicate topic since the Legion victory over the NCR at the Hoover Dam. Legion laws forbade drugs, alcohol, and gambling. Nearly every establishment on The Strip was comprised of these key elements. For the past month, meetings had been held to discuss the future of New Vegas. Did they destroy the casinos, enslave the whores, and kill the men?

No. The Courier had a sharp objection to that.

Caesar wanted to build an Empire. To shape a civilization around the beliefs of the Legion. Every army fought to protect something. The Legion needed a city, a capital, to protect. What was the point of a drifting army that left only destruction in its wake and the only reaped spoils of war were more mouths to feed? She was right. Caesar agreed with her. That damnable wench had convinced Caesar to his way of thinking.

"Cities survive from trade," the Courier had begun explain to the multitude of officers gathered in Caesar's tent. "If we only build a stronghold for our men, we'll reap no benefit. To live means to cost. Every soldier and slave must eat. Weapons must be forged. Armor must be crafted. This Legion is one of warriors, not of tradesmen.

"Settlers and merchants travel for hundreds of thousands of miles to reach this glowing beacon in the desert. When they arrive, they pay through the nose to enjoy a lax atmosphere over a drink. Tell me, Lord Caesar, have you looked into the vast sums these casinos collect from these travelers? Each casino reaps thousands of caps a week."

At this point, the Courier paused to wet her lips and glance around the room. Men sat on the edge of their seats. All ears were finely tuned into her speech, hanging onto every word. Caesar himself sat in a thoughtful pose, cheek resting in hand upon his throne. Women were creatures treated lower than the Legion Mongrels, and for them to pay such attention to the 'inferior' sex was an anomaly.

"What I propose, My Liege, is that we build our city around The Strip. Do we forget the slums that surround The Strip? Westside and Freeside, for example. These locals will submit to our rein or be crucified in our wrath. Also look at the greenery here in the Mojave. You must know how empty and dusty it is out west, Lord Caesar, and heard of the desolate lands of the north east.

"Daily, settlers move in to look for opportunity. Who are we to stop these kindred spirits? Let them settle in our land. We will build a city for them. We'll take in the sick and the hungry, and we'll cure them. Because we must win over these people. The leaders of great nations should be loved by their people and feared by their enemies.

"The NCR is fleeing. Bases, however, remain scattered throughout the Mojave. This desert is vast, Caesar. Our primary goal now is driving out the remnants of the NCR before they can regroup and form a counterstrike. Our secondary goal should be to win over these locals here, on The Strip, and show them the horror stories they've been told have only been on the receiving end of our wrath. We must show them that being in the Legion's good graces is a blessing from Mars himself."

The silver tongued devil had won over Caesar and his men. Caesar praised her open thinking and mind for strategy. Men looked at her with gazes of respect for the woman. She was most likely the only woman they'd ever held in such high regard before. Murmuring had spread through the tent when Caesar remained silent and studied the girl. Her expression remained unflinching. Her posture showed no weakness.

"Right you are, Courier. It seems I made a wise decision, accepting you into my Legion. Never did I imagine a woman could present herself as such a formidable creature." A breathy chuckle escaped the warlord. "I hate to imagine if you'd sided with those NCR fuckers and chased us out of the Mojave. Don't let your ego swell, Courier. These times now are only the beginning of your trials."

Caesar leant forward in his throne, eyes piercing straight into the Courier's strikingly green ones. It was at that moment, Caesar found himself momentarily lost in those depths. Jade depths that held so many secrets that threatened to look deep into his soul if he was not careful.

"Tell me your name, Courier."

That, however, made her demeanor shift.

"Pardon?"

"Your name, Courier. Your given name at birth."

Drawing her right hand up, causing a majority of men in the room to reach for their weapons, she swept back the wheat locks hanging in front of her right eye. Near the very top of her skull, right at the beginnings of her hair line, a ghastly scar marred her flesh. Fresh, sinewy skin covered the crescent shaped scar. The room held its breath.

"You know as well as I do that I lost my memory after a bullet to the head. My past is a mystery. To me, I have always been Courier."

"Surely, you won't remain under that name now that you've joined my Legion."

"I… don't really care, to be honest. Name me as you please."

A surprise, Caesar would admit. Everyone knew the tale of the Courier and Benny, the bastard who shot her with a single 9mm and left her for dead. The after story, how the Courier was affected, was never deemed important enough. The Wasteland only watched her actions. They didn't care for the Courier as a person, but as a being. Caesar mused to himself internally, compiling all the information about the girl.

She was cunning, he'd give her that. At times, he sensed she might outwit his lead Frumentarius with ease. Those calculating eyes that never seemed to waver. They showed a varying spectrum of emotions, from heartfelt emotion to the cold gaze of death. The way her bangs fell to frame her face, pale hair setting off the vivid color of her irises. Without a doubt, Caesar knew what he was going to name this newly baptized Legionary.

"Esmaralda," Caesar concluded with a smirk. "I baptize you Esmaralda of the Legion." A moment passed before Caesar turned his eyes back up to the rest of his men standing idly by. "All of you get out. This discussion has been settled. Details will be handled at a later date."

The Legionaries obediently dispersed from their leader's tent. As the freshly baptized blonde, Esmaralda, was about to step out of the tent, a voice called her back. "Esmaralda," Caesar summoned, cheek resting in his hand once more. Behind him appeared a familiar fox head, a pair of gray eyes simmering underneath. That manipulative smirk quirked the corner of Esmaralda's lips.

"I have an assignment for the both of you."

"As you wish, My Lord."

"Whatever you say, Caesar."

A vein visibly throbbed in Vulpes' forehead. The nerve she had to speak to Caesar in such a manner. What appalled him most was Caesar's lack of anger. Instead, his eyes gleamed with amusement at the blonde's flippancy. Her demeanor when giving a speech and living life were completely different. Vulpes loathed the woman.

"I'm sending you two out to The Strip in three days. I'm very much aware of the presence Esmaralda holds over the people there. Every man, woman, and child there knows her face. You'll be paying a visit to the Tops when you arrive. Esmaralda, I believe you're familiar with the new head of that joke of a casino?"

"Sure do. Man called Swank. Real slippery kind of guy."

"I expect nothing less of the former Boot Riders. Your mission is to go work your charms on those weasels and convince them to give seventy percent of their annual sales to my great Legion. I trust I won't need to give you further instruction if they refuse your first offer."

Vulpes scoffed internally. This woman was all talk, he'd heard. Only good with a high powered rifle and her mouth, which he imagined had been all over a vast populace of the profligate males. Caesar's eyes turned to his most trusted Frumentarius. "You will be accompanying her as a guard."

No.

What?

"My Lord, if this Courier is as great as you say, may I ask why you wish to send me along?"

"Are you questioning me, Vulpes?"

"Of course not, My Liege. I merely ask out of curiosity."

Caesar stood from his chair and stretched his legs.

"I'm not foolish enough to send out one man—woman—on this mission. You're tagging along for the intimidation factor, Vulpes. Just sit there and look pretty while Esmaralda here does all the hard work."

A satisfied grin claimed Esmaralda's lips. Laughter bubbled in her stomach. Caesar's words were demeaning to his soldier. Vulpes did not show his distaste, however. Instead, the two exchanged a few sentences in hushed Latin before Vulpes bowed to Caesar. The fox strode meaningfully towards Esmaralda, roughly grabbing her by the crook of her elbow.

"No need to get touchy on me, Fox."

"Silence."

"Snippy today, aren't we?"

"I told you to be silent."

"Remind me when I began taking orders from you?"

The meaningless banter faded into the sounds of the Fort, much to Caesar's pleasure. Two of his most trusted soldiers fought like children sometimes. This sort of situation, as he had seen it many times, could not be solved by an outside party. They'd both have to come to a mutual respect in their relationship. But first, they'd need an actual relationship to start mending it.


	2. Fresh Face

"Where we heading, foxy?"

Steely eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Do not mock me, woman."

A feminine snicker.

Esmaralda. The ex-courier let the name flit through her mind. Obviously, it was a Latin name. She spoke very little Latin, given she wasn't raised in the Legion by their morals.

"Hey, fox face, seriously— where to?"

"I will not hesitate to string you up on a cross."

"No you won't."

She was right. He wouldn't. Mars damn her.

The fair haired woman bounced along beside him, short legs struggling to keep pace with Vulpes as he strode along with no regard for her. It didn't bother her that she nearly had to jog to remain at his side. But at his side wasn't simply good enough. No, she had to be slightly ahead of him, just by couple paces or so. The simple act of dominance irritated Vulpes. Obviously, the woman didn't know her place.

His hard eyes roamed her figure from his peripheral vision, noting the remarkable machete that hung from her belt. It didn't differ in appearance from any other machete, but that didn't make it ordinary. The blade was often heavily used, as could be told by the chips in the blade's edge. However, upon closer inspection, one could see the careful way the aged weapon had been cared for by a doting owner. Designs were carved into the hilt of the blade, a detailed depiction of a bull engraved with master precision. Surely, the precious weapon had to have been a gift.

"We're going to the arena? Oh, that's nice. Slaves fighting today?"

"Not exactly."

A blonde brow raised.

"Then what?"

The metal walls of the arena blocked the sun from the eastern area of the sky. Legionaries filled the seats, the occasional slave filing in behind their master.

"Lucius has been challenged."

Esmeralda nodded apprehensively. She followed closely behind Vulpes, sauntering through the milling crowd of red clad soldiers. Surprisingly enough, when the ex-courier looked up, a Prime Legionary was holding back a scarlet curtain for her. Given that Vulpes was nowhere in sight, it could be assumed he'd disappeared behind the curtain as well. Esmaralda flashed a demure smile and brushed past the Legionary with a murmured phrase of Latin thanks.

The deep colored curtain fluttered shut in her wake, blocking out some of the harsh Mojave sun. Sharp green eyes darted around the private room, noting everything down to the number of freckles sprinkled across a boy-Legionary's cheeks. A number of officials from the meeting prior were present in the lavish room. Some loitered in small clusters, conversing quietly, while others sat on regal sofas sipping wine.

Vulpes sat reclined beside an acquaintance of his, Cato, speaking in Latin. Whatever the fox said clearly amused the Frumentarius. No doubt, it was probably a mocking comment about Esmaralda herself, or paranoia was getting the best of her. She remained standing not too far from the doorway until a lounging Centurion looked her way.

"Courier," he called, beckoning her over with a nod of his head. She nodded in return, closing the distance and sinking down into the elegant sofa beside the man.

"Good to see you, Silus. I don't believe I've seen neither hide nor tail of you since McCarran."

Esmaralda gratefully accepted a chalice of red wine that was offered by a timid slave girl, nodding her thanks to the lowly girl as she scurried away. The blonde slowly swirled the wine in the goblet, drawing air into the thick beverage.

"Pleasant surprise to see you as well. I've been flushing out nearby NCR bases with some of my men. Caesar gave me a new responsibility I returned."

The dark haired Centurion lolled his head in the direction of the young boy shifting from foot to foot nearby.

"Apparently, the boy's a prodigy. I wouldn't know, given how quiet he is."

"Don't judge a book by its cover, Silus. The ones who talk less think more. Explains why you're never quiet."

Silus glowered half-heartedly at the smirking blonde. She brought the rim of the battered chalice to her lips, filling her mouth with a small sip of wine, and washing the bitter liquid down her throat. Her gaze landed on the bright eyed child, who was watching the ring with intrigued green eyes. She studied his profile. His shoulders were squared and his head held high.

The kid was barely ranked higher than the pair of slaves in the corner, but he didn't seem to acknowledge that. The fight hadn't even begun yet, but the boy still stared with the utmost curiosity. Esmaralda hummed as she took another sip of the delectable wine in her cup. Legion kids were interesting. They were either meek as mice or too big for their boots.

"How long has it been since Lucius was challenged as lead Praetorian?"

Silus hummed and squinted at Otho, who was parading around the ring, egging on the spectators.

"Thirteen years."

Esmaralda whistled.

"Why now?"

"A fresh face to the Praetorian guard thinks Lucius isn't capable of protecting Caesar anymore."

"Do you think Lucius is capable of protecting Caesar?"

"Caesar has remained unharmed for thirteen years, has he not?"

"Good point."

The chatter in the private room continued as Lucius walked into the arena, head held high. His eyes roamed the crowd, noting the cheering faces. Esmaralda watched as he rolled his shoulders. He appeared stressed. It was a given, considering he hadn't been challenged for his position since he received.

Also emerging from the heavy gate of the arena was a younger Legionary, hair spiked atop his head. He walked with an air of flippancy and nonchalance. He carried his machete thrown haphazardly over his shoulder, disregarding the hisses that followed him. Uneasiness nipped at Esmaralda's stomach lining. Vulpes caught her troubled expression and smirked mockingly.

"Is the Courier feeling sentimental over Lucius?"

Jade eyes hardened, darting towards Vulpes.

"Unlike you, Inculta, he's what we call a good man."

The Frumentarius scoffed, resuming his conversation in Latin tongues with Cato. Esmaralda turned her gaze back to the window that offered a prime view of the arena. However, the view was partially blocked by the young Legionary boy that was leaning over the window, eyes trained on Lucius. Draining the rest of her cup, she tossed it lightly to the slave in the corner, who fumbled the goblet once before she secured her grip around the metal object.

Esmaralda pushed up from the sofa, dusting imaginary dirt from her armored kilt. The motion was too feminine, irritating Vulpes. The blonde sauntered towards the large window, leaning her forearms on the railing and sticking her head out into the faint, dry Mojave breeze. The boy looked up at her, expression stony, but amusement gleaming in his eyes.

"I've always wanted to fight in the arena," Esmaralda sighed, wistfully watching as Lucius and the younger Praetorian—Mencius, as Otho had announced him—circled each other like the predators they were. The young boy watched with narrowed eyes as the spiky haired Praetorian jumped towards the elder, making him in turn jump back.

Mencius was playing a game. He wasn't taking this serious at all. Esmaralda watched in disgust as the young male grinned like some sort of animal taking delight in teasing Lucius. The elder did not lose his composure, however, which made Esmaralda beam. Lucius was a kind man—tough and callous—but a kind man nonetheless. He didn't deserve such ridicule from his subordinate.

Suddenly, Lucius attacked. Mencius hadn't been expecting it. The younger faltered, falling to a knee in the dusty arena. Machete gleaming in Lucius' hand, he swiftly hacked at Mencius' unprotected left hand. The young man yelped as Lucius cleanly sliced off the dominant hand of his opponent. The severed appendage and weapon plopped into the dust unceremoniously.

Glancing down to the boy beside her, Esmaralda's lips twitched into a smirk at the sight of the boy marveling down at the scene in the arena. His eyes were a familiar shade of green with very familiar qualities. Sharp, intense, and calculating. Those eyes seemed aged far beyond that of his few years. She nudged the boy with her elbow.

"Interesting, huh?"

"Hn."

The brunette boy hummed, eyes glued to the fight. Mencius scrambled back from Lucius in the dirt, holding his stump protectively to his chest. Futile was his attempt to escape Lucius, who was closing in on the junior Praetorian. The elder stomped on his chest, pinning him to the ground. The head Praetorian hissed something down at his subordinate, and in a flash, Mercius' head was rolling.

In an act of finality, Lucius kicked Mencius' decapitated cranium across the arena, earning a surge of roars from the surrounding Legionaries. The Centurions chuckled, returning to their idle banter. Esmaralda turned to the short kid beside her, grinning at the prideful expression on his features. She nudged him with her elbow once more, drawing his attention from the victorious Praetorian.

Two sets of intense green eyes roamed the other's respective owner. Her face was angular and heart shaped, while his was small and round with baby fat. The tousled locks upon the Courier's head were pale wheat, while the boy-Legionary's were short cropped curls of mahogany. Silus watched the scene with mild interest, whereas Vulpes noted every last detail.

Never before had the fox seen the Courier take interest in a person for more than a few moments. Something about that boy had to be intriguing, or the Courier would be pestering him again. Maybe the child was a blessing. Anything to keep the blonde wench out of his hair long enough for him to slip away. Tearing his eyes from the display, Vulpes resumed conversation with Cato, who had noticed the time his commander took to study the strange woman in Legion armor.

"Have you fought in the arena?"

Esmaralda raised a brow at the boy. His features remained a stoic mask, portraying not the slightest bit of emotion through the thick exterior. She rolled her shoulders, shaking out the stiff joints. She'd been still for far too long already. Still, the boy looked up at her, awaiting an answer for his question.

"Women aren't allowed to fight in the arena, kiddo. Even you should know that."

"You wear Legion armor."

"True, but that mother fucker Otho refuses to let me step foot in his ring."

The boy nodded silently. Both eyed each other until the boy spoke up again.

"Why do you wear Legion armor?"

"That's a good question. Maybe it's because I support Caesar's ideals."

"Women aren't supposed to wear Legion armor."

"Little boys aren't supposed to play dress up."

Younger green eyes widened in surprise. Esmaralda smirked and ruffled the boy's hair. He brusquely brushed her hand away. The blonde snickered, placing her hands upon her hips. An interesting boy, alright. Most Legion children were either meek as mice or too big for their boots. This particular boy, however, didn't seem to fit in either of those categories. Very interesting indeed.

Silus whistled sharply, drawing the attention of the boy that had peaked Esmaralda's curiosity. The Centurion languidly stood from his seat as the young boy snapped to attention. It was clear from body language that the two absolutely loathed each other. Why Caesar had entrusted a brat to a man like Silus was beyond her. Silus cared for himself and only himself.

The now standing Centurion's eyes met Esmaralda's.

"I'll hope to not see more of you, Courier."

"Whatever, Silus. I'll see you around."

The duo of mentor and student stiffly walked to the scarlet curtain that blocked off the rest of the Legionaries from the private room. Before it could slip her mind, the Courier followed behind the two males, stopping them short before they left the room. Esmaralda caught the boy by the shoulder, the only amount of surprise showing in his glittering eyes.

"Tell me your name, kid."

"Juvenal."

Esmaralda released the boy's shoulder. Silus glowered down at her.

"Courier, you'd do best to not bother my charge."

She snorted.

"Don't be such a dick, Silus. Why, I could almost say you are what you eat."

The young boy watched on with widened eyes as the brutal Centurion in front of him glared at the grinning blonde woman. Never, in the months the boy had known his mentor, had he seen anyone show such mocking and disrespect to him. However, this insolent woman had the gall to tease him about homosexuality?

"Please tell me your name."

"Eh?"

Distracted, Esmaralda looked down at the beaming boy. He was the only barrier between herself and the massive Centurion that seemed to contemplate destroying her at that very moment. A different light shone in her eyes as she dropped to her haunches in a crouch in front of the boy— Juvenal.

"Esmaralda."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Wow. Thank you guys for the support!  
This chapter came out a day or so later than expected, and I'm truly sorry about that! I had to lengthen this one up a bit to introduce our newest character, Juvenal. I promise we'll move on to the main plot soon enough. Reviews are greatly appreciated, and so are favorites!**


	3. Weather Woes

Mojave winds were stronger than usual today.

Vulpes watched through the polycarbonate lenses of his goggles as Legionaries scrambled to hide from the vicious dust storm. He himself stood in the shelter of his tent, peeking through the canvas flap. Most of the foot soldiers had fled, but a few stragglers remained. Just as Vulpes was about to turn away, a particular figure caught his eye.

From his distance, all he could make out was a silhouette with a slender waist and rounded hips. Vulpes narrowed his gray eyes, watching with intensity as the lone figure scurried away towards the weather monitoring station. The guard posted at the weather station let the visitor pass without hassle. Lucius, who was seated behind Vulpes, heard as the Frumentarius audibly grit his teeth.

In a whirlwind, the fox was snatching up his cloak and securing his vexillarius helmet over his skull. Lucius glanced over with mild interest, hands busy with scouting reports.

"Are you going somewhere, Vulpes?"

"Yes."

The fox did not elaborate as he all but ripped the thick canvas flap out of his way and trudged out into the storm. Fierce wind slapped Vulpes' unprotected cheeks, sediments pelting his pale flesh. He plodded down through the recruit training area, determined to make it to the weather monitoring station.

What irked Vulpes was the fact that damned Courier was allowed permission to enter the forbidden building, but he wasn't. Him, the head of Caesar's special Frumentarii division, was denied to learn of the secrets held within the modernized building. It was a disgrace! That filthy wench hadn't even been assigned a position among the ranks, yet she had more privileges than an elite such as he.

"State your business."

The Veteran guarding the station from the shouted over the howling gale, but his voice was still only barely audible to Vulpes' keen ears. Vulpes loudly informed the man he was sent to assist the Courier. Of course, the other Legionary would be foolish to deny the Frumentarius. The fox was allowed passage, and he quickly slipped into the shelter.

* * *

Praetorians weren't any fun.

Esmaralda had tried all kinds of ploys for the stoic men to talk to her, but they wouldn't so much as acknowledge her. She grumbled as her fingers typed away on the aged computer terminal. Logging the new Securitron updates was tedious, which was why she had been putting it off for weeks. The only reason the Courier had decided to finally get to it was because tomorrow morning she'd be leaving for the strip, and God— Mars, whatever— knows how long she'd be gone.

Suddenly, a sharp whistling filled the concrete entrance room of the weather monitoring station. The clunky metal door creaked open, and just as quickly as it had opened, it slammed shut. Esmaralda spun lackadaisically in her ancient chair, features drooped in boredom. Instantly, her lowered brows perked up. There was a fox in her domain, it seemed. A wry grin crossed her expression as the tall man rolled his shoulders to shake some of the golden grains of sand that had collected on his cloak.

"What drags your filthy hide here, Inculta?"

Who else could it be? No other man in the entire Fort bothered her as much as that pesky Frumentarius did. Silus and Lucius were the only two to ever comfortably speak to her without too much prejudice. Speaking of Silus, the Courier needed to have a word with him before she left in the morning. It was about his charge, the boy that was called Juvenal.

Vulpes surveyed the dingy room he'd entered many times before. Caesar had sent him in here on multiple occasions for reconnaissance on what lay beneath the reinforced concrete floors of the weather monitoring station. However, every single one of his expeditions were failed, as the only way to open that cursed hatch was with a particular chip.

The Platinum Chip.

"Do not speak down to me, whore."

Esmaralda snickered. Vulpes was just as lively as always. Perfect, she needed the distraction anyways.

"Did Caesar send you?"

"Yes.

"I know that's a lie, because he ordered no one to disturb me so I could finish my paperwork." The blonde waved her hand flippantly. "Try a different excuse, Mr. Fox."

The Frumentarius glared. Mars damn that unforgivable wench.

"I do not answer to lowly degenerate—"

"—whores such as myself, yes, I've heard this spiel over and over again. If you're going to be monotonous, leave before I have my golden boys here throw you out."

Esmaralda nodded to the young Praetorians standing opposite each other. Vulpes silently seethed while the Courier yawned and stretched in her seat like a cat. The greasy Handyman jumpsuit she wore set off the verdant of her irises. Esmaralda clicked her teeth in irritation at Vulpes silence. She turned back to her desk, typing fluently on the pre-war keyboard.

"Is that all you do with your time here?"

"Yes."

Before the fox could continue, Esmaralda glanced back at him over her shoulder, fingers still working furiously on the keyboard.

"You're boring, Inculta. Get out."

"Don't command me to do anything, you insufferable wench."

"Fine. Sit there and watch me type all afternoon."

* * *

Vulpes did in fact watch Esmaralda type all afternoon. Not once did her eyes stray from the terminal while he stood across the room, observing as she hacked away at the meaty stack of papers at her side. However, she took her time to monitor the Frumentarius as well. His eyes liked to wander, it seemed. She'd feel them burn into her back for short increments of time, but frequent ones nonetheless.

When she had finally conquered the mass of reports, she mewled as she cracked her stiff joints. She pried a few words from the stoic Praetorians, and bid them farewell as she sent them back to Caesar. Instead of hustling out of the building behind the cloaked Praetorians, she leaned back against her desk and folded her arms across her chest. She stared at him.

The only movement was the faint tick of the clock. He'd obviously come here for something. Besides pestering Esmaralda and ailing her duties. Clucking her tongue condescendingly, she stooped down and unlocked the bottom drawer of the aged desk. The papers were dropped into the drawer with a plop, and a clank as her booted foot kicked it shut. The tumblers fell back into place.

Perhaps the fox had gotten the gist of what she was logging all afternoon. She didn't really care if he knew about her Securitron Vault, but it was interesting to make the hardened Frumentarius squirm and seethe under her power. The key ring twirled around her finger as she shouldered past Vulpes, making sure to roughly nudge him out of her path.

The storm outside had worsened, much to Esmaralda's dismay. She clapped the weather monitoring station guard on the back and lumbered off into the storm. Vulpes trailed behind her, malice rolling off him in waves. It was the little things Esmaralda did that put him on edge and nipped away at his better judgement. His hands itched to lash her with a whip, string her to a cross, or snap a collar around her neck.

When the Frumentarius swept back into his tent, there was one more person than he left. Across from Lucius now sat the Courier— who was now back in her Legion attire. The two lazily greeted him. Vulpes stomped over to Esmaralda, hauling her up by the back of her tunic.

"The nerve you must have to defile my quarters, degenerate wench."

"Take it up with Caesar. He sent me here."

A scroll abruptly smashed against Vulpes' nose, causing him to loosen his grip on the woman. She ducked out of reach with a snicker and stood beside Lucius. The elder Praetorian smirked behind his hands as Vulpes angrily ripped open the scroll, gray eyes scanning the paper furiously. His orbs widened before he slung the thin parchment onto the table.

"A child? You're bringing a child with you?"

"Not a child, Inculta. A prodigy."

"It's that boy from the arena, isn't it?"

"And if it is?"

Vulpes scoffed and sat down in his chair.

"Are you planning to molest the boy and brainwash him while he's young?"

"Silly fox, I don't have the same sexual habits as you."

Lucius couldn't bite back the laughter as the Courier danced towards the tent entrance. Her irises twinkled with mirth as she pulled aside the tent flap. She was gone with a brief salute, leaving only collected grains of sediment in her wake. Vulpes growled as he picked up an apple, harshly biting into the fruit.

She's got him wrapped around her little finger, Lucius thought idly.

* * *

Morning Mojave sun was a bitch.

Esmaralda groaned as she threw her arm haphazardly to block the golden rays shining down from above her tent. Why now, of all days, did the forces of the universe decided to pull this stunt on her? She'd need every ounce of strength to march alongside the Frumentarius and simultaneously irritated the hell out of him. Suddenly, a small knock sounded on the post outside her tent.

"Leave me alone!", Esmaralda's hoarse voice called, but the knocker persisted. When she didn't give them permission to enter her tent, they took the liberty of entering of their own accord. A small finger prodded the Courier's shoulder. A single green eye cracked open, and promptly closed whenever she spotted the boy standing at her bedside.

"Juvenal, we don't leave for another hour, shut up."

"Vulpes Inculta left at dawn."

In an instant, Esmaralda was on her feet and equipping her armor.

"Shit, shit, _shit!_" Came her rapid succession of curses as she ran out of her tent with her rucksack in the boy's arms, she herself hopping whilst strapping on a boot. "What time is it now?"

"Eight."

"Son of a _bitch!_ We'll _never_ catch up if that fucker's got two hours of—"

The Courier froze in place, her charge smacking dramatically into her back. She spun around and gripped his shoulders, lifting his feet off the ground.

"Juvenal, have the stallions arrived from the east?"

"Stallions? The horse... things?"

"_YES,_ the horse things! Go to the stables and demand one on my behalf. If they deny you, so help me God, tell them the Courier will stake out their livers or something!"

"Yes, ma'am. Where do I bring it?"

"The... uh, gates! Bring it to the gates! We'll depart from there."

In a flash, the dark haired boy was running as fast as his short legs could carry him towards the stables in the game area. Esmaralda wiped her brow, as if multitudes of sweat beads were dampening her brow, and turned for the gates. Her rucksack was secured on her back with the few personal items she carried from the Fort to the Strip. With surprising speed, Juvenal met her there in record time. She masked her delight with orders as she instructed him into the saddle and settled herself behind him with the reigns.

"Hey," Esmaralda intoned after they had begun trotting out of the Fort, "do you know how to ride a horse, kid?"

The young boy shook his head.

"No, ma'am."

A curse was whispered under her breath.

"You better hold onto that pommel kid."

"Why?"

"I don't know how to ride a horse either."


End file.
